


Little Red

by Incessant_Darkness



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Themed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 18:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incessant_Darkness/pseuds/Incessant_Darkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akashi is a tempting treat and Midorima is not always averse to indulging. A story very loosely inspired by the classic fairy tale, Little Red Riding Hood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Red

**Author's Note:**

> _Warning: Very minor mentions of blood._

Inside, buried so deep that even Akashi’s omnipotent eyes could barely glimpse it, kissing the marrow of Midorima’s bones, was an intelligence. It was dark lightning, jolting as it brushed over him, the taste of electricity which locked his jaw and clenched his teeth so assuredly that it never failed to give Akashi pause—which in itself was novel.

And perhaps that novelty was the precise reason Akashi couldn’t help but try and tease that intelligence out. If Midorima noticed he was indifferent to it, the way that Akashi’s gaze would go from regarding him as a deferential sheep to a starving wolf.

~

When Midorima caught Akashi bent over the red camellia plants in the garden he didn’t see the quirking smile that upturned the corners of his mouth. What he did see was the pale flash of the back of Akashi’s neck, and the sway of his red, red hair in the summer breeze. And those images burned into him, slowly scraping away the topmost layer of the veneer of control that Midorima enjoyed holding to. 

The seed was planted in that way, the way with which Akashi’s slender fingers stroked the petals of a newly blooming bud, the touch needlessly ungentle and bruising as he forced it open. Entranced, Midorima failed to make note of the moment that Akashi stood, but he did see the way that disquieting gaze swept over him as if he were a part of the scenery and nothing more. 

In turn, Midorima watched each and every step Akashi took as he strode back into their shared home. 

~

When Akashi seated himself at the dinner table he was wearing a simple black yukata, accented along the left edge with a striking strip of red. From his position on the cushion across from Akashi, Midorima could not see the obi, but he imagined it too was cut from that same fire engine red. 

At some point, Akashi had acquired a fresh camellia in full bloom and it was pinned like a broach to his chest. The flower caught Midorima’s attention and held it, as he well knew it was meant to.

The gentle tap of Akashi’s chopsticks knocking against the porcelain bowl in front of him broke Midorima from his revere. With a quiet word, Midorima began on his meal.

When Akashi stood up and left the table it was in silence and he left his meal half eaten. The very tips of Akashi’s fingers dragged over the top of Midorima’s left shoulder as he passed, lingering just enough for the scent of the camellias to stick in the back of Midorima’s throat, at once ruining his appetite and awakening in him a new form of hunger.

~

When Midorima found his way to the bedroom he discovered Akashi splayed out on the floor, his yukata deliberately parted in the front to flash a lick of the milky white skin of Akashi’s legs. The lights were pale, emanating from the full-bellied moon that washed in through the high windows, casting everything in a harsh singularity. 

The blood in Midorima’s viens quickened as he stalked forward, hardly aware of the fact that his eyes were fixed much too intently on the provocative splashes of red amidst the otherwise prevalent black. The inside of the yukata was lined in that same redolent carmine and Midorima was drawn to it with all the futility and emotion of a beast having scented blood.

Akashi’s fingers looked bone white in the harsh lighting as they slid down his still clothed chest, dancing against the thin swathe of the obi which lay unspooled and spread across his torso as if some magnificent monster had carved his body open from sternum to hipbone. 

The veneer cracked, shattered and Midorima hit the ground hard with his knees, overcome by the need to extract Akashi from the confines of his wrappings. There was no patience, only a single minded desire as Midorima grabbed either edge of the yukata and ripped it open.

The noise that tore from Akashi’s lips was a gasp but it sounded like the moan of a siren to Midorima’s ears. Against the pale and bare expanse of Akashi’s chest a bloom of crimson sprung up, spreading as he watched. It took a moment for the sparse faculties of Midorima’s mind to comprehend; the camellia broach had not only been pinned to the black cotton but also to the tender flesh of Akashi’s chest beneath. 

Far from stalling Midorima the realisation brought a jagged smile to his lips. Deft fingers sought out the camellia amongst the cloth and disentangled it, bringing the pin to its previous home above Akashi’s beating heart. His eyes asked no permission, his actions gave no pause as he slid the sharp thick pin through flesh once more, his fingers smearing in the blood. 

At that Akashi did well moan, his head tossed to one side as his back arched in a fruitless battle against the possession and the pain. The blood began to bead anew, sliding down the subtle ridges of Akashi’s flanks and provoking Midorima in the manner of its soft caress.

Faintly calloused fingers mimicked the touch as Midorima bodily loomed over Akashi, forcing one leg up between his thighs to crush the sensitive weight of his balls with the unforgiving solidity of his kneecap. The action earned an uncontrolled hitched breath from Akashi. Pressing his advantage, Midorima descended on Akashi with his mouth, his teeth digging in, leaving crimson rosettes where a moment before there had only been an unmarked expanse of milky flesh. 

When finally Midorima drew back with a languid lick to the sharp protrusion of Akashi’s left hipbone he took a breath to admire his handiwork. The length of Akashi’s torso was painted with an unstrung garland of blood blossoming blue beneath the delicate translucence of Akashi’s skin.

On the brink of losing his composure, Akashi had a warmth in his eyes, and relief too. Just the sight of it eroded the last of Midorima’s defenses and his breath left him in a broken exhale when he failed in his final, desperate clutch at the rein of control that Akashi had so completely teased away from him.

It was that moment that Akashi lived for, the feeling of being eviscerated as Midorima’s eyes burned with pure appraisal over him, seeing right through him. It was like nothing and no one else—an understanding so certain that it would only make what was to come all that much sweeter.

Midorima kissed the corner of his mouth, the heat of his breath a brand against Akashi’s jaw. “You want to be devoured.” 

“Yes.” There was nowhere to hide.

To Akashi, eternities became inconsequential next to the moment that Midorima spent circling his entrance without the slightest inclination towards penetration. And then two fingers sunk in, through to the third knuckle without the slightest hitch. Akashi inhaled sharply enough to leave his ribs pressed in acute relief against his skin.

The texture of velvet against the pad of Midorima’s index finger caught him off guard though perhaps not so much as it should have. “If you continue on like this the camellias will never bloom for you again.”

“They’ll bloom.”

The certainty in Akashi’s voice was nothing short of intoxicated, the drunken confidence of a man who had gotten precisely what he’d wanted. The spectacle of the moment was not lost on Midorima, but he indulged in it willingly, thoroughly.

“What are you waiting for?” Akashi’s chest was trembling the like wings of a moth about to take flight. 

“I am contemplating the pros and cons of _deflowering_ you.”

The off-handed smile that crossed Akashi’s lips was nothing short of provocation, a weak mimicry of an innocence that Midorima well knew Akashi had never possessed. Midorima took the incitation willingly, pushing Akashi’s legs up until his thighs were kissing his chest.

It was a tight fit but that gave Midorima no pause. The stars in the heavens must have slipped from their place for the noise that escaped Akashi as Midorima opened him up with his length. 

Midorima allowed his dick to sink half way into the engulfing heat of Akashi’s ass before pulling out and ramming deep. Akashi’s eyes flew wide open, and his fingers scrambled for purchase on the wooden floor but found none. His teeth broke the skin of his bottom lip as Midorima began to pound the breath from his body. 

Seeing the red that painted Akashi’s lip, Midorima couldn’t help but lean down for a taste. Akashi took the invitation and buried his fingers in Midorima’s hair, forgetting to breathe as he let his mouth be plundered just as surely as the rest of him. 

An unwitting rough tilt of Midorima’s hips left Akashi’s fingers clawing past the back of Midorima’s neck and down his arms. The kiss broke as Akashi jerked his head to one side, helpless to resist the deep, guttural moans that swelled into rasping screams, torn from his throat by forceful, staccato thrusts that hit him _just right_. 

Midorima’s hand found purchase on the side of Akashi’s bared neck, his narrow fingers splayed as they bore down against the tender cartilage and flesh that composed such carnal noises. A single golden eye caught Midorima’s gaze, and Akashi mouthed a word that had no air to give it voice.

For a second Midorima’s grip slackened. 

“ _Harder_.” 

There were high spots of colour in Akashi’s cheeks, and his hair had spilt across the dark cherry wood in damp, curling locks. The yukata beneath gave little purchase, making Midorima’s thrusts more harried and less precise as the pace picked up. 

The fates could have realigned and the stars fallen out of their place in the sky and Midorima wouldn’t have noticed. Akashi was a vision beneath him, demanding every shred of attention that Midorima had to give. And give it he did, every inch, every ounce until Akashi was forcing delicious broken noises past the squeezing fingers around his throat; he came blindly, lips a bloodless white, his cries transmuted into vulgar prayers as the pleasure—and Midorima—overwhelmed him. 

Midorima was quick to follow, his mind enthralled by the visceral, helpless twitching of Akashi’s body in the throes of orgasm. The hapless thrusting of Midorima’s hips continued until the fading ripples of pleasure left him spent to the marrow and Akashi was a wreck, splayed out against the crimson canvas of his abused yukata.

Breathing out in ragged, hitching pants, Midorima drew the material closed, hiding the eternal temptation that was Akashi’s flesh before he rolled off to one side to gather himself. 

When Midorima at last had his senses back in hand he turned his head. Akashi was watching him, his eyes a dull, satiated plum to match the bruises that painted his neck.

The stars realigned themselves in the unseen heavens above and the silence carried on for a long while until finally, “One day this won’t be enough.”

“For me? Or for you?”

Midorima didn’t bother to answer.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a really had time finishing this because I accidentally saved over a huge portion of it and had to rewrite. I'm really glad I did get through it though! Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
